


Saudade

by The_Kawaiiest_Cannibal



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Diego Kerr Created By Nazi-Nurse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kawaiiest_Cannibal/pseuds/The_Kawaiiest_Cannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a history between Diego and StrexCorp's new owner, an outrageously rich and mostly nude angel. Now that Diego has to work closely with the new owner, his relationship with Kevin is being affected in a way he could never have imagined.<br/>*Minor/major-ish spoilers for "Old Oak Doors Part B"*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saudade

The first week under StrexCorp's new ownership had not been an easy one for Diego, especially when he was working directly under a certain someone with whom he had a . . . bit of a history with in his pre-angelic existence. A bead of sweat trickled down Diego's temple as he felt the potent celestial aura of the new CEO pervade the room. “Diego, I don't recall asking you to leave. Are you really so anxious to get away from me?” he asked, his voice so terribly familiar, but newly gilded with melodic tone of an angelic being.

Diego swallowed nervously as he glanced toward the door. “No. Sir,” he added. “It’s not you. I . . . This is just too sudden. It’s been years!”

“Years? Since when, Diego?”

“Since . . . ” Diego stopped. What was he doing? It was likely his CEO didn’t remember their history. It had been so long ago. . . . Besides, he couldn’t let a previous relationship between them get in the way of either of their work. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said finally. “What is it you wanted to see me about?”

“I would like it if you would stay a little late tonight, in the conference room, of course. There's a lot about this place I want to improve, and I need to discuss it with someone who knows what they're doing,” explained the angel formally known as Marcus Vansten, gesturing to several manilla folders labeled “Improvements”. “God forbid, we might even talk about something besides business while we're at it,” he added with smirk. Diego found the informality of that last phrase quite unsettling. Best not to dwell on it.

“Right. Of course. Oh!” Diego slapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh, sir, do you mind if I let my boyfriend know I’m going to be late? I don’t want him to worry. . . .”

The angel stared at Diego blankly. Diego had seen that look before, from this man--angel, he reminded himself--before. He didn’t want to think about the past, so he shoved those cruel memories out of his mind. “I mean . . . ,” Diego continued, “he just likes to know where I am, and, I mean, it’s date night, and--”

The angel held up a hand. “Say no more, Diego.” His lips were drawn together tightly and curved slightly upward. Diego supposed you could call it a smile, but it didn’t seem quite right. “Of course. Go ahead and let your boyfriend know--what was his name again? Colin?”

“Kevin.”

“Right. Let Kevin know you’ll be staying late. I completely understand. One must always let their partner know if their plans change. . . . Do you not agree, Diego?”

“Of course, sir.” Diego tapped out a quick message to Kevin on his phone's gold plated keyboard, padded with the necessary apologies to hopefully keep his darling from going on a killing spree.

“Done?” Marcus asked, his voice tinged with the slight acidic undertone of impatience.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful,” Marcus said, a true, genuine smile on his face. Maybe it was the smile or the angelic look of him, but he now looked truly stunning. A beautiful man-turned-angel, his blue hair shining like a halo. Diego wished he could take his eyes off him. Any longer and this would surely turn awkward. But he couldn’t stop staring.

“Yes, sir,” was all he could say.

“Shall we?” Marcus asked, taking the lead as they headed to the conference room, each step an elegant glide seeming barely to make contact with the marble floor. Almost floating. But not quite.  The angelic man flung the planning folders carelessly onto his desk as they entered, so that they almost slid off the edge. A memory. Marcus used to throw his business books with the same reckless abandon back in college, alway late to class, always too cool to care. He had been so handsome in college.

“Well, Diego, what do you think?”

Diego was abruptly snapped back to the present, only to realize he had no idea what Marcus had been saying for the past minute. “Uh . . .”

Marcus laughed softly. That laugh . . . Damn that laugh--no matter what the situation, that laugh always seemed to cast a spell on Diego; he would do anything for Marcus so long as he laughed. To describe it using any of the mediocre, mundane words of any human language would simply undermine its elegance and its simplicity. “What I was saying,” Marcus said, “was that if we are to improve StrexCorp, I believe we must first begin with the . . . employees.”

A bit of fear rushed over Diego. The employees? Did that include him? He wasn’t going to fire him, was he? Diego didn’t know if the history between him and Marcus would cause Marcus to have hard feelings towards him, but it had been so long, and he hadn’t seen Marcus since college.

“Oh, don't look so nervous, Digs, you're doing a wonderful job. Alway the perfect little worker, right?” He gave Diego a playful nudge. Smiling God, did Marcus really just call him “Digs”? When had he last heard Marcus utter that hopelessly darling pet name? A blush danced briefly across Diego's features as rather unprofessional memories stirred up.

“Right. Thank you, sir,” he managed to stutter.

“I think that the employees around here would be more efficient if there was a little less . . . blood involved. Would that be possible?" continued Marcus, dumb to the rather unproductive effect he was having.

“I suppose . . . ,” Diego said, though he did doubt it. Blood was substance, blood was life, and you couldn’t have productivity without either. How was anyone supposed to get any work done without the sticky residue coating every surface of the walls and floors and seeping into their shoes? Where was the motivation to be productive without the metallic scent of blood? Diego was hesitant, but Marcus had always been quite the businessman, ever since college. He had always had the most bizarre ideas on increasing productivity, but he had almost always been right. And he _had_ been a billionaire before becoming an angel. “I will get right onto it,” he said. “Anything else?”

“Yes. So much. Tell me, Digs”--there that nickname was again, sending shivers down Diego’s spine--“have your opinions on negative reinforcement and re-education changed at all since college?”

Yes, a nice work-centric matter. A distraction. “I have always found such techniques to be the cornerstone method of dealing with insubordinate workers. And it is so much more personally rewarding for those dealing out the discipline," Diego replied dutifully.

Marcus stifled a laugh, a heavenly chuckle. “How did I know you would say that? You know, I've found my chimney sweeps to be 79% more productive when given positive reinforcement over the loudspeakers bi-hourly. It's amazing what a little positive reinforcement can accomplish. . . . Perhaps you're in need of some yourself.”

Diego both loved and resented this banter. So simple, these words. But the undertones presented by these words angered and confused him. He smiled. “Anything to increase my productive potential, sir.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you, Digs? Don’t get me wrong, I love that you’re so willing to work and contribute to the company--how else are we supposed to make so much money? But . . . I think it’s about time you maybe loosened your tie a little bit. No, not literally,” Marcus said as Diego reached for his collar.

“Oh, right.” Diego straightened. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, sir.”

“StrexCorp is under new management now. And while we will always strive to be the productive giants we have always been, why can’t we change things up a little bit? And I want to start with you. You’re a terrific asset, and I couldn’t wish for a better employee. But sometimes you need to stop being an employee and just . . . enjoy freedom. Do what you want. Use money the way you want. Buy a private library where you can strut around nude. See, this is what was wrong with the old StrexCorp--you were all so focused on productivity for productivity’s sake. But what about productivity for _your_ sake?” Marcus jabbed Diego’s chest.

“I . . .” Diego was at a loss for words. Had he ever worked for something purely for his own sake? Had anyone? Against his better judgment, he replied, “You’re right, sir. I trust you.”

“That's the spirit. Now, I want to see some sort of extravagant gold-plated monument to yourself in the office lobby by the end of next week.”

Diego gave Marcus something of a radioactive deer in the headlights expression.

Marcus chuckled once more. “I'm just kidding with you, Digs! If anyone's going to have a garishly expensive gold-plated monument in the lobby, it's me. Nude of course.”

This man turned angel was going to be the death of him, Diego was sure. “You haven't changed much since college either, sir.”

“I’ll take that as a complement. I believe I was quite amazing back then.” He smiled vainly. “You, too, of course. Quite amazing . . . Anyway, you know this company more than I do--who would be the best person to commission a gold-plated, nude monument of myself?”

“Er, I’m not sure, to be honest. But, I can send out an ad or something.”

“Don’t you worry, Digs. I’ll probably just have one of the Erikas take care of it. They’re amazing at commissioning monuments. Though, most of the monuments they _have_ commissioned were not gold but platinum, and they depicted giant wooly mammoths going to war against equally large fire ants. I haven’t been an angel long enough to understand _that_.”

It was easy for Diego to forget Marcus now was an angel. He still seemed the same he had always been, and it was amazing that his new angelic being hadn’t changed him in such a noticeable way.

\--

 _Had something between him and Diego changed?_ Kevin wondered, starting up the Maserati on his way to an empty luxury home. So many late nights this week, and all the loving texts in between just didn't seem to make it right. But, he reminded himself, he had to have faith in his boyfriend. It couldn't be easy having StrexCorp under new management, and it wasn't like Diego _wanted_ to stay late; it was part of his duty to the company. Yes, Kevin really had no right to be mad--Diego was only doing what was best. Maybe he would even bake a nice cake while he waited for his love to return.

He drove up to their home and parked outside. He was certain he had all the ingredients necessary for a cake. He walked into his kitchen and checked--he had eggs, flour, milk, frosting, everything he needed! He preheated the oven, which immediately began to smell of burnt, rotten meat. Even the oven was working perfectly! This was going to be wonderful. Diego wasn’t going to expect this, and he would be so happy. There was nothing on earth like that smile of his. Nothing at all . . .

Kevin began to make the cake, wondering what Diego was doing now. Since StrexCorp had been under new management, there had been several new changes. Perhaps Diego was beginning to get acquainted with these changes. Kevin had expected Diego to be resistant to the change in management because he was so very dedicated to the original management, but Kevin was quite surprised to see Diego actually quite happy with the management. Kevin was, too. But . . . perhaps not quite on the same scale as Diego.

The oven was very cramped. It took a little bit of rearranging, but Kevin believed he had found the best position for the cake and the oven’s contents to bake without either one damaging the other. As the cake baked, Kevin began to get dinner ready.

A pot roast would be just the thing for dinner--it was Diego's favorite. Kevin was sure that once he tasted a good home-cooked meal again, Diego wouldn’t be so hasty to stay late at the office. He scraped some yummy looking meat off the wall of the cupboard and slid it in the pot along with some vegetables from the fridge. That Erika. He certainly had an interesting way of dressing. One might even call it tacky, the way he always had those stuffy looking velvet suit jackets and so much jewelry! Diego might wear a tasteful gold pinkie ring every now and again, but in Kevin's opinion, Erika was really taking it a bit far. He seemed to be taking a lot of things too far.

Kevin suddenly began to whistle "You Are My Sunshine" very loudly while he cooked, so as to drown his negative thoughts. They really weren't healthy. He went through the song five times before the pot roast was done. And another five times while he waited for Diego to come home. He checked the time. Normally, Diego would have been home twenty minutes ago. At _least_. Kevin reminded himself that Diego was working late, as he had told him, but that didn’t mean he liked waiting for him so long.

Should he call him? That seemed irrational. Diego might think him too clingy, and Kevin also didn’t want to distract him while he worked. Maybe he could keep himself busy with some sort of work. There wasn’t much to do; the pot roast was cooked, the cake was baked and frosted, the house was clean. He had never had to wait for Diego so long after work. It was a strange feeling. He felt sad, empty, lonely . . . _jealous_.

Kevin's heart all but lept, his phone jingling with the indication of a text. It was surely Diego was letting him know he was on his way home, or better yet outside the door!

But no. It was much worse. It was Lauren.

 _Why couldn't she have died in that book fight?_ Kevin thought. The empty threat of a frown played on the edge of Kevin's lips as he read the message:

_Hey Kev! Just thought you might want to know what your boyfriend's up to ;)_

There was an image attached, and what Kevin saw made him drive his thumb straight through the touch screen, shattering glass and smashing circuits. It was a picture of his boyfriend-- _his_ boyfriend--kissing the CEO.

\--

Marcus’ lips were on Diego’s. He was advancing quickly on him, placing his hand on Diego’s leg and moving the other one down his back. It was violent and euphoric. Diego was lost at first--lost in the shock, in the high of the kiss. The memories that flowed with that kiss: long all-nighters at college trying to finish homework and throwing coffee in each other’s faces to keep them up; straightening each other’s ties before a presentation in front of their business class; graduating and skipping the party so they could be alone together. The years he had spent with Marcus had been the greatest of his life.

But then he had moved to Desert Bluffs.

Both of them had known their relationship couldn’t survive with Diego in Desert Bluffs and Marcus in Night Vale. Diego had spent much of his first year in his new town missing Marcus. But when he had met Kevin . . . he had forgotten all about Marcus. Kevin was no Marcus, that was for sure, but Diego loved Kevin. And what on earth was he doing now, letting Marcus kiss him?

Diego shoved Marcus away from him. “I have a boyfriend.”

Marcus's eyes flickered with a shocked kind of hurt, his angelic aura almost seeming to grey. "But I thought . . . I mean, now that I'm here . . ."

Diego tensed, not daring to look Marcus in the eye for what it might do to his resolve. He was already furious for letting his emotions leave his control, even for that brief moment. "We can't just act like all those years apart didn't happen, Marcus. I've moved on. You know that."

Marcus gave him a weak nod. "Yeah, I just thought . . ."

"No, Marcus. I'm sorry." Diego strode from the room, the microscopic glint of something wet trailing down his cheek. He was angry at Marcus, he was angry at this whole evening, but mostly he was angry at himself. How could he let Marcus do that? How could he let him? How could he allow himself to like it?

Smiling God, and what was he going to say to _Kevin_? Kevin would be heartbroken if he knew what had happened, but Diego couldn’t lie to him! That was not how you handled a relationship; you were always honest. _But are you honest even if you know the truth will hurt your boyfriend?_ Diego wondered.

He got into his car and drove straight to his house. When he arrived home, he noticed Kevin’s car wasn’t parked out front. He entered his home and was immediately assaulted by the scent of meat and blood and sugar. Kevin had been cooking again. He hesitantly entered the kitchen and found a pot roast on the counter and a cake right next to it. This was too much for one person to eat; Kevin had obviously made this food planning to share with Diego.

Something crunched under Diego’s shoe. He picked up his foot and saw Kevin’s phone on the floor, a splintering, bloody hole right through the screen. He picked it up. Displayed on the mostly ruined screen was an image. The image’s colors were off, and it was very blurry, but Diego could still tell that this was an image of Marcus kissing him. And not from college, no, but from mere minutes ago.

“Kevin . . . ,” he whispered, imagining what horrible things Kevin could be thinking about him right now. “KEVIN!” he yelled, hoping he was still in the house so he could explain everything, but he knew it was fruitless; his car was gone. Kevin was gone.

\--

The empty hum of the Maserati mirrored the empty hum Kevin felt in soul.

He had begun his bitter journey tearing furiously down the desert interstate, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, pedestrian carcasses flying off the edges of the windshield. This was something he had found quite terrifying, as he never remembered crying before. Now, however, as the desert road sprawled out endlessly, no longer interrupted by cars, Kevin just felt hollow. How long had it been going on? Didn't Diego love him? Did he really mean so little to Diego that he was willing to give him up for a pretty face? It really didn't seem to matter. Kevin needed something to fill the void festering in his chest, and he found himself wanting to do something he had never been compelled to do in his life. Kevin wanted to drink.

He glanced out the window and spied a road sign: "Night Vale, 2 miles. Try a refreshing non-sentient cocktail at The Moonlight All-Night Diner!"

Perfect.

He remembered Night Vale. He remembered their strange desires to stop StrexCorp and their resilience. He also remembered the fact that they _had_ succeeded in stopping Strex from joining Night Vale and Desert Bluffs together under one corporal roof. Normally, he wouldn’t want to step foot in that town after the way that had treated Strex, but whether it was his anger and hurt resulting from Diego’s betrayal or the fact that it seemed as though StrexCorp itself was betraying him, he had no guilt in pulling into town and entering the diner.

Upon entry into the diner, he sat into a booth and ordered one of those non-sentient cocktails that had been advertised so heavily on neon signs and through telekinesis. His waitress then screamed in horror and ran out of the diner. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long for his drink.

“This seat taken?”

Kevin looked up to see his double pointing to the seat across from his. His double didn’t seem to realize it was him as he wasn’t yelling at him or cursing his name, so Kevin half-heartedly shrugged and gestured for him to take the seat.

Another waitress soon came through to the front of the restaurant. She had orangey-tan skin, dyed blonde hair that was braided on the right side of her head, a detailed picture of a lobster shaved into the left side, and a name tag that simply read "Betty". She also appeared to be blind. The waitress seemed to know Cecil and gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry about what happened, Cecil. I'm sure he'll get back somehow. You want a cocktail? It's on the house."

Kevin watched with half-hearted interest as Cecil gave Betty a sad smile. "Thanks, Betty, but only if it's something strong--drink to forget and all that."

She nodded simply and left before asking Kevin if he wanted anything. “Who’ll get back?” he asked Cecil, figuring idle chit chat would be better than wallowing in his own pity. Not that he didn’t have a reason to wallow, he totally did, but he figured he needed to spend more time being positive than negative as to counteract said negative feelings.

Cecil didn’t reply, and Kevin didn’t blame him. If he was having even half the night Kevin was having, he certainly had a right to not talk to anyone. The waitress returned immediately with glass filled with ice and a bottle of some red, translucent liquid. “Just say when,” she said as she began to pour the liquid into the glass.

“Can I get the whole bottle?” Cecil asked. “I’ll pay full price.”

“Allow me,” Kevin said, reaching for his wallet. He flipped through the several dollar bills and gold credit cards only to discover that this was actually _Diego’s_ wallet. He paused before pulling out a hundred dollar bill and handing it to the waitress. _You used me,_ he thought bitterly. _Why can’t I use just a little bit of your money?_ “Keep the change, Betty,” he said to her.

She stared at the money and then back at Kevin. “That’s not my name.” She turned around and headed to the cash register.

“Thanks,” Cecil said quietly as he poured himself a glass. “That really wasn’t necessary.”

“Yeah, it was,” Kevin said.

"Thanks," Cecil said again, taking a careful sip of the red liquid, followed by a less careful downing of about half the glass. He half-turned to Kevin "Are you from around here? Your voice seems a little . . . odd."

Kevin thought it best not to reveal who he was, at least not until a few drinks later. "Nope. I, uh, just rolled into town. Yeah, that's it." He always had been a bad liar.

"Wait a minute . . . " Cecil finally turned to get a good look at the man across from him. "Oh, gods. Kevin?!" Cecil would have dropped his glass on the floor from the shock, had Kevin not caught it before it reached it's destination.

"I guess I can't fool you, Cecil," Kevin said, trying to give his double a friendly smile, which only succeeded in causing Cecil to cower behind the napkin holder. "Please, Cecil, I'm not here to make you believe in a Smiling God or anything like that--though you really should consider it. I just really wanted to get away from the house tonight."

“And you decided to come _here_? To _Night Vale_?”

Kevin shrugged. “It was far enough away. Besides, it’s nice to explore the town when all its citizens aren’t rising up against us. Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing to the bottle.

“Uh . . . ,” Cecil muttered, his eyes darting across the diner.

“Thanks.” Kevin grabbed the bottle and popped the lid off. He had no glass, so he poured the contents into his hands and slurped the liquid gratefully. He felt the eyes of everyone in the diner begin to bore into him, but he couldn’t care less.

“Okay . . . Well, this has been terribly horrifying, but I think I’m going to--”

“Cecil. Please stay. I know I barely know you, but you’re my double. Surely that has to mean _something_ , right? It seems like we’ve both had some rough nights, and maybe we can help each other out. Also, I paid for your liquor, so . . .”

Cecil examined Kevin cautiously. “You’re not going to murder me, are you?”

“Now, why would I do that?” He smiled genuinely at his double.

Cecil gave a sarcastic snort. "Good to know my life isn't currently in danger. Well, it's technically always in danger because this is Night Vale, but you know what I mean."

Kevin nodded; he was glad that Cecil seemed to be calming down a bit. Kevin started to pour himself another handful of that red liquor, which he decided had a sweet heady flavor that he quite enjoyed.

However, Cecil abruptly stopped him, grabbing the neck of the bottle. "Please, if you're going to keep drinking that, at least let me get you a glass."

"Alright, if you insist," Kevin replied with an indifferent shrug.

Cecil returned with a glass full of ice, performing the necessary courtesy of pouring Kevin's drink for him.

“You’re so kind,” Kevin said, downing the glass immediately. “This is just so _sweet_! What is this?”

Cecil shrugged as he refilled his own glass. “No idea. Don’t think it’s the non-sentient cocktail, though. But that isn’t nearly as strong as it should be. Guess that’s what happens when a cocktail doesn’t have sentience.”

“That’s a wonderful point.” Kevin tipped his head backwards and emptied the remaining ice cubes into his mouth. He chewed on the frozen liquid while he waited for Cecil to say something.

“You, um . . . ,” Cecil began. Kevin looked at his double curiously as he munched on the ice cubes. “You have . . .” He gave up and sighed, drinking a little bit more.

Kevin swallowed the ice, the freezing shards going down his throat. It felt like it had when he had seen the picture--cold, strangling, cutting through his very being as though he might cease to exist. The good news was that the ice soon melted and passed through his system; that wasn’t going to happen with Diego, though.

No, he didn't want to think about Diego. Maybe there was some truth in what Cecil had said earlier about drinking to forget. Kevin poured himself another glass from the bottle, which hadn't seemed to get any emptier all the time they had been drinking from it. _It probably has to do with it's being sentient,_ Kevin thought. "So, how's what's-his-name?" Kevin asked, flippantly waving his hand as if he expected the gesture to help him remember, "You know, the one with the science?" The liquor was already beginning to fog his train of thought.

"Carlos," Cecil said flatly, his voice icy and disjointed. He knocked back another drink before replying, "Carlos. Is. Fine. Yes. He called yesterday, and he said he was just fine." Cecil's eyes had started to glisten, but he continued on, "Oh, he's so smart, and he says he's going to be home just as soon as he can and--" Cecil's head collapsed into his hands. "It's just not fair!" he whimpered.

Oh dear, asking about Carlos had been a bad idea. "Gosh, Cecil, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Kevin said earnestly, giving him a gentle reassuring squeeze on the neck. "What do you mean about Carlos getting home? Isn't he here in Night Vale?"

Cecil poured himself another glass and downed all of it in mere seconds. “No,” he snapped. “I mean, he was. And I guess you could sort of say he’s here but in another dimension of here, but he’s not actually here.”

“I understand,” Kevin said, even though he didn’t. Wow, Cecil really _was_ having a hard night. He doubted he could make it better for him.

Cecil scoffed. “Right. And I suppose your boyfriend is trapped in another dimension and can never come home because he’s not ‘from there’ and it’s not ‘his home’ even though he’s lived there for two years and he’s moved in with you and he loves you and--” He cut off with an angry sigh.

“My boyfriend cheated on me with the CEO of StrexCorp.”

Cecil hiccuped in surprise. “ _Lauren_? Wait. No, not Lauren . . . An ‘angel’, right? A rich one that wears garishly outrageous clothes when he’s not naked?”

Kevin nodded sadly. “That’s the one.” He carelessly threw his glass off the table. It shattered, and he grabbed the liquor bottle and drank straight out of it.

"Ouch," Cecil said sympathetically, taking a swig out of the bottle that Kevin had just set down. All three of the radio host's eyes seemed to narrow in thought. "Wait a minute, if Carlos is still stuck in the desert, why aren't you?"

"Oh, that's a funny story actually," said Kevin, brightening a bit at the prospect of telling a story. "After that Steve Carlsberg shoved me through that old oak door in your studio, I fell into a terrible, white hot desert. It was like that searing white hot feeling you get when you leave your hand on the stovetop burner too long. The light of a Smiling God. I really couldn't see anything at all, it was just so bright, and I crawled blindly through the sand for miles, trying to get away from the light, looking for a way out. But, just when I was sure I was being eaten up by the brightness, I felt someone shove me, and when I opened my eyes, I was on my front porch! I think the desert sent me back because it knew I didn't belong there." 

Cecil frowned, and Kevin worried he might have made him upset. "Carlos _does_ belong here," he insisted. "And even if he doesn't, how can _I_ belong here when I'm without him? I belong with _him_." Another drink.

"At least he's never betrayed your trust. And with _Erika_ , of all people! What's so special about him? I mean, I will admit that if you look past the outrageous clothes and his nudity, he's actually kind of handsome. But I like to think I'm handsome, too! I mean--" He paused and stared at his double. "Yeah, I'm good-looking."

"Oh, thank you," said Cecil, surprised.

"And I'm sure I have other great qualities, too. I'm productive, I'm optimistic, I'm . . . _productive_. And I know for a _fact_ Diego loves productive, optimistic men."

"He . . . shouldn't get away with that." Cecil's voice was already beginning to muddle and slur with alcohol. "Here--" He outstretched his hand. "Gimme your phone."

"Oh, I kind of shoved my thumb through it. Plus I left it at home, so . . ."

Cecil raised an eyebrow. "You shoved your thumb through it? Why does that not surprise me. Hold on a sec. . . . " Cecil dug through his pockets, producing a small purple flip phone with an eye decal. "What's Diego's number?"

"787-399-3425." The numbers Kevin had taken such pains to memorize tasted bitter as he said them now. "Why?"

After several failed attempts, Cecil managed to dial the number, a smirk on his face as the phone rang away. "It's payback time.”

\--

Diego was picking up the pieces of Kevin’s phone like the pieces of what left of their relationship when he heard his own phone ring. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered anyway. “Hello?”

“Is this Diego . . . of StrexCorp?” came the muddled voice from the other end.

“Yes . . . Who’s this?”

“Someone who is very disappointed in your cheating behavior. You cheater.”

“How’d you get this number? Wait, is this Dave from accounting?”

“NOT EVERYONE IS DAVE FROM ACCOUNTING!” came another voice, one that Diego actually recognized.

“Wait, is Kevin there?” Diego asked. “Can you put him on?”

“I’m already on. _Diego_!” Kevin said angrily. Diego had never heard Kevin angry, and the thought of his boyfriend in such a rage terrified him--he was crazy and violent enough when he was happy!

“Look, Kevin, trust me, it is a _huge_ misunderstanding--”

“Oh, so you and Erika _weren’t_ locking lips in the conference room? So I just _imagined_ that picture?”

 _Where did that picture even come from?_ Diego wondered. “Kevin, do you really think I would cheat on you?”

“I used to think that. I also used to think that StrexCorp could never be owned by an angel who my boyfriend was bizarrely attracted to, but apparently it’s Kevin Is Wrong Day!”

"Kevin, we need to talk about this in person. I'll come pick you up, where are you?"

"Don't bother, Mister Cheaty McCheaterpants, I'm having a _great_ time without you, right?”

Diego could hear a slurred response in the background. "Kevin, wait--"

"Also, I lied when I said your tie looked nice this morning. Orange checks make your face look fat." The line went dead before Diego had a chance to plead his case any longer.

 _Who was that first man on the phone?_ Diego wondered. _Someone from the radio station, perhaps?_ Yes, the radio station was like Kevin's second home. If he had run off to anywhere, it would have been there. Diego ran back out to the car, silently cursing the idle moments it took to start. Luckily, the station was only a short drive away, and with a quick scan of his executive security card, Diego was up the stairs and into the viscous warmth of the recording booth, steamy blood pooling into his oxfords, memories of gore soaked socks and sweet, sweet nothings similarly inclined to pool in his head.

"Kevin!" Diego called, flinging open the doors of the station. "My love, where are you?!"

No response.

Diego mentally scolded himself. If Kevin was here, why would he respond? He was clearly furious at Diego--or, as furious as he _could_ be.

There were tapes in a box near the soundboard. They were records of all of Kevin's shows. Diego went to the box and looked for today's; he hadn't been able to hear the show because he was working late with Marcus.

 _It wasn't even worth it,_ Diego thought now. He found today's tape and played it.

"So, the new CEO angel of StrexCorp, Erika, has been spending kind of a lot of time with Diego . . . ," came Kevin's voice. "I'm sure they're working on something great, but they've been spending a lot of time together. . . . A _lot_. I am not jealous, listeners, because jealousy is such an unproductive emotion. All that moping and sighing--nope! I'm just curious about what our wonderful new CEO is up to with _my_ boyfriend. I mean, obviously our CEO can do whatever he wants, but, I mean, they're kind of being really close to each other a lot and smiling in ways I've only seen on occasion. But . . . it's probably nothing.”

Kevin had had so much faith in him, and that photograph had gone shattered it all. _He_ had shattered it all. _Really, who had taken that picture?_ Diego wondered to himself. _Whoever it was, they are going to pay dearly._ He listened on. “Oh, I just got a text from Diego, would you look at that! Oh . . . Diego says he can't make it for dinner tonight . . . because he has to stay late at the office. Now, listeners, I am not upset. I'm used to Diego staying late because he is so, _so_ dedicated to his work for our wonderful company. But, heh heh, it really is the funniest thing--this is the first time he's ever cancelled on a date! Can you believe that, listeners? I-I'm sure his intentions are good. I mean, I don't wanna get my hopes up, but maybe he's planning a surprise? Oh, that would be so nice of him! He knows how I love those surprises--especially those ones where the children with the distorted faces jump up and scream at you while blood falls out of their eyes. Oh, so cute . . . But anyway, it's probably just good ol' Diego being good ol' Diego. Right?"

This almost physically hurt to listen to. His sweet, wonderful, naive darling had been so sure that Diego’s intentions were good. And they had been; all Diego had wanted was to be more productive for StrexCorp. It was both his and Kevin’s dream. If he could go back, he wouldn’t have stayed late. Even if that would have risked him his job; anything to prevent that horrible kiss and the even more horrible reaction from Kevin.

“Yes. That has to be it. I am sure of it. What's that, Intern Abner? Oh, what a wonderful surprise! Listeners, it appears that we have a caller at our humble little radio station! And, not just any caller, but our very own CEO of StrexCorp! I can't think of anyone I would want to talk to _more_ right now!”

Marcus had called him? It must have been while Diego had been distracted in his flashbacks of college.

“Hello, Kevin, this is Erika,” came Marcus’ voice. “And I'm calling to let you know that your Diego . . . yes, he is very special. Quite special indeed . . . We've never had such a . . . wonderful little . . . _worker_ . . . at StrexCorp. Yes, he is quite wonderful. . . . Anyway, you ought to be proud. Because I am. Very proud. Of Diego. You do well too, but, I mean, Diego . . . You know what I mean, don't you Kevin?”

That bastard! To think he had had the _gall_ to call into the station, to taunt Kevin like that, adding insult to injuries yet to come! Diego mentally added Marcus to the quickly growing list in his head of people that were going to pay. It was he who had starred in this play of supreme betrayal, but he would see to it that every character who played a part would be punished.

Another pang of guilt, a needle in his heart as he listened to the voice of fierce loyalty his love spoke through the speakers.

“I'm not quite sure I do, Erika, sir. Would you perhaps be talking about how wonderful he is at stapling? Because he is quite wonderful at that. Staples in notarized documents, people's faces when their smile just needed that extra little push . . . Or when someone upsets his boyfriend. He is so wonderful at that.”

Oh, the compliments that were pouring out of Kevin’s mouth! All for Diego, who felt so inferior, who felt as though he was in no way deserving of these beautiful words. Was it even a little bit possible that Kevin still felt this way? It had to be possible. It had to be.

“Yes. Staples," Marcus said. "He is wonderful at that, of course, but that is just one minor aspect of his overall wonderful personality. And not only that, but his wonderful personality thrives in a wonderful human. To simply speak about one wonderful aspect of him would not be enough. He is indescribable. Absolutely indescribable . . . Anyway, so sorry he has to _work_ tonight and miss your _dinner_ , but he must be productive. And he's so wonderful at being productive. I'm sorry, I'm probably keeping _you_ from being productive. I'll let you go, Kevin. Thanks, by the way.”

It was almost as though all of this had been planned: keep Diego late after work, call Kevin and fuel him with jealousy, kiss Diego and send the picture to Kevin. It might have been a cruel coincidence, but all reason and logic were pointing to the fact that Marcus was trying to erase Kevin from the picture and have Diego all to himself! The nerve of him! At least Diego had had enough sense years ago to end their relationship.

“No, thank _you_ , sir, I-- Oh. He hung up. Well, that's perfectly alright. Our new CEO is right, listeners, I do have a radio show to run, and I must remain productive. We can't just have people calling in all day long for no actual purpose. Why, that would be the opposite of productive. Kinda makes me wonder what the CEO of StrexCorp was doing making that unproductive call . . . but I'm sure it was productive it some sort of angelic, CEO-type way. Anyway, and now the news-- No, can't do it. Sorry, but no one else found it even a little bit odd that Diego and Erika are working so closely? I mean, I've worked for StrexCorp much longer than Diego, and I've _never_ gotten one-on-one time with the CEO! I mean, I got Lauren, but . . . Anyway, I'm not jealous, because that is a negative, unproductive emotion, but, I mean, really, guys. No disrespect to Diego or Erika, I'm just thinking logically, right?"

Kevin _was_ right; such a close relationship with the CEO had been a bad idea from the start, and Diego had just blindly gone along with it. Really, what had he been thinking? Had he been so wrapped up in his work, in the memories, that all of this had just gone over his head? Diego couldn't listen to this any longer; it was evident that Kevin wasn't here at the station, and sitting here moping was doing him no worldly good. Something had to be done.

He had to find out who had taken that picture. Had it been Marcus? That would certainly seem like something he’d have done, but given the angle of the picture, it wasn’t possible. Perhaps another angel? Again, that didn’t seem likely. It had to have been something who would want him and Kevin broken up, but who would want that? Diego didn’t like not being able to figure this out.

He knew he had to get ahold of Kevin. Since Kevin’s phone was broken, his best bet was to redial the number that had called him. After three short rings, someone picked up.  “Hello?” It was that other man that was with Kevin. Who was _he_? Kevin hadn’t moved on already, had he?

“You were with Kevin,” Diego said, getting straight to the point. “Are you still with him? Where is he?”

“Who is this?”

“Oh, Smiling God. It’s Diego. Kevin’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, yes. The one who cheated on him with the angel.”

“I WASN’T CHEATING! Now, please, where is Kevin?!”

"I don't know if I wanna tell you," the man on the other end said defiantly.

Diego didn't have time for this man's drunken idiocy. His voice went as cold as steel. "If you do not tell me Kevin's whereabouts in the next five seconds, so help me Strex, I will find out who you are and I'll have you tell the business end of my gun."

"Whoa, whoa, let's not get hasty. He's passed out in front of the diner."

" _Which_ diner? Where?"

"The Moonlight All Night Diner. In Night Vale."

 _Night Vale?_ Diego thought as he hung up his phone. What the hell was Kevin doing all the way out there? And passed out in front of some run down 24-hour diner no less! Kevin was vulnerable, and who knew what kind of awful creatures were lurking the streets of Night Vale at two in the morning. Diego ran hastily out of the radio station, slipping on several pools of blood on his way down the stairs. He slammed on the gas and tore out onto the highway, hoping he would reach Kevin before it was too late.

Diego found the diner illuminated by neon lights. Beneath the sign donning the diner’s name was Kevin. “Oh, Strex,” Diego muttered as he ran out of his car. He ran to Kevin and grabbed his shoulders. “Kevin, are you okay?”

Kevin was unresponsive as he was unconscious.

“Okay, Kevin. We’re gonna go home, okay? Here--” He lifted up Kevin’s arm and wrapped it around his neck. He grabbed Kevin around the waist and heaved him up. “Come on. Come on.” He dragged Kevin towards his car.

“Wait right there!”

Diego turned his head to see a man who looked almost exactly like Kevin standing outside the diner. His voice . . . was the same voice Diego had heard on the phone earlier. This man was obviously Kevin’s double. “I don’t have to take orders from you,” Diego said.

“You’re . . . his boyfriend, aren’t you?” the double asked, wobbling on his feet.

Diego rolled his eyes. “I literally have no time for this, good bye.”

"You can't just drag him into the car like some kinda . . . like some kinda two-cent floozie!" The man pointed an accusatory finger in the general direction of Diego's car as it sped away, before abruptly bending over to retch on the curb. Unpleasant spectacles such as these always reminded Diego of how glad he was not to live among the unkempt, unproductive masses that called themselves the citizens of Night Vale.

About halfway through the car ride back to Desert Bluffs, Diego heard Kevin stir in the back seat. "Owww, my head hurts," Kevin whined, curling up into a ball underneath his seatbelt. It took all Diego's willpower not drive straight off the road at the sound of Kevin's voice.

"I know, darling, just try to rest," he cooed softly. Diego could see Kevin tense, his eyes widening in recognition.

"Wait a minute. Diego?!" Kevin ripped off his seatbelt, yanking angrily at the passenger door. "I don't want to talk to you! Let me out right now!"

“Kevin,” Diego said slowly in a desperate attempt to stay calm, “please, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! I can’t believe you would try to . . . would try to . . .”

“Darling, I’m not trying to do anything but take you home and put you to bed. You’ve had a rough night. And I need to explain everything.”

“NO!” Kevin slammed his fists against the car windshield. “No, how can I trust you? Let me _out_!”

“Kevin, _stop_!” Diego exclaimed as cracks began to spiderweb across the windshield. Kevin’s fists were bloody and shredded, but he persisted. “Honey, please, stop!”

“No! You. Kissed. Erika. I thought-- Diego, I . . . Smiling God!” With another pound on the glass, it shattered.

“Strex!” Diego swore, slamming on the brakes as shards rained down upon him and Kevin. They screeched to a stop just outside Desert Bluffs city limits. Kevin immediately hurled himself out the broken window and ran away from the car. “Kevin, come back here!” Diego called as he fumbled with his own seatbelt. As soon as he was free, he bolted from the car himself and ran after Kevin.

Kevin ran faster.

Diego sighed and sprinted after him. He finally caught up with him and caught him around the waist, and they both came crashing down. “Kevin, please listen to me!”

"Let go of me!" Kevin was flailing wildly, clawing desperately at Diego's arms, but Diego refused to loosen his grip despite the newly formed slashes bleeding through his sleeves.

"Kevin, you need to calm down, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"What do you care? I obviously don't mean a thing to you!" Kevin spat. He was close to hysterics now, tossing and turning like a terrified animal.

"Kevin, you mean the world to me. I know it's hard for you to believe that now considering what you've seen, but you've got to give me a chance to explain what happened. Look at me, darling."

Kevin had exhausted himself, but still had enough energy to turn angrily to the side, facing away from Diego as much as possible. "No," he said simply. He sounded just like a child trying to stave off going to bed.

Diego couldn’t help but grin a little bit. “Yes.”

“No!”

“Kevin, what you saw--”

“La, la, la, la, la!” Kevin sang. “I can’t hear you!”

“Smiling God. Kevin, please. I . . . I love you.”

Kevin immediately went silent and looked up at Diego. “Is that what you said to Erika?”

“No. I believe my exact words were . . . ‘I have a boyfriend’ and ‘I’ve moved on’. Kevin, _he_ kissed _me_. I wanted no part of that kiss, believe me. All I could think about was you and how I wanted you and not him. Kevin, I love _you_.”

Kevin pursed his lips together. “You have no feelings for Erika? None at all?”

"None. I promise."

Kevin remained silent for several moments, his face unreadable.

Diego gently pulled his arms away, only to be knocked backwards onto the sand in a suffocating embrace. "Diego, love, you have no idea how hard it is to be mad at you," Kevin murmured, nuzzling into his boyfriend's chest.

“If it’s anything like knowing that you’re mad at me, I think I have a pretty good idea.” Diego pressed his lips to the top of Kevin’s head. “Oh, by the way, who sent you that picture in the first place?”

“Oh.” Kevin made a disgusted noise. “ _Lauren_.”

“Ew, gross. I thought she died in the book raid. Well, I’m sure once Night Vale finds out she’s alive they’ll go after her.”

“Should we . . . not let them?”

Diego considered this for a moment. “Nah. We’ve meddled in Night Vale’s affairs enough. Let’s just go home.”


End file.
